|
Let this be a lesson to everyone who thinks dying in a car accident is their ticket to immortality. You need more than plastic flower topped, shitty
boards to adorn your name to be remembered.
Oh sure, you get a kick-ass cross adorned with another kick ass cross made of flowers. And you get your name in big bold letters for all 13
people who travel highway 69 through Pittsburg, Kansas to see. And every now and then some flaming buttfag will come along and want his
picture taken beside it.
But that's it, thats your legacy. Because although I have the full name of Heath Bussey, that's all I got. I can't find a fucking thing about this.
If you want to become famous for your shitty driving, or being a victim of anothers, you have to do it in grand fashion.
So my advice to anyone wanting to be famous for their roadside memorial is to look over my site and get some ideas. Be
a mormon who was suspected of drunk driving, get your
throat slit with a garden tool during a gang fight, or if you really can't think of anything,
just park along the highway and jump in front of an 18 wheeler.
> > > Update 12/23/2019
This is a dark, dark day not just for me but for humanity: Despite decades of evidence to
the contrary, I am fallible. Not only did I miss
the
online article about Heath Bussey's accident, nor did I just get the city in which it occured wrong;
I wasn't even in the right fucking state. To be fair, as much of a shit hole as the sunflower state
is, when you are in Oklahoma you long to be in Kansas.
So, thanks to Charlie, I just found out Heath Bussey died 5/7/1998 when he drove his truck under an
18 wheeler that blew through a stop sign during heavy fog in Vinita, OK.
|